Please don't leave me!
Hearing: Bad Religion? Is that who sings this?Wearing: Something. My arms are sore and I don't know why.
Feeling like: Don't have much time for sympathy
Monday, Jul. 22, 2002
Note this is a transcribtion. I don't do it often, I don't like it. but I love what I wrote!I can't seem to get my thoughts straight, for some reason. My mind wanders as though it cannot find a stone to sit on. Random thoughts come flying through my brain and there is no way to control them. The thoughts are what is me. They are what is real and unreal. The thoughts are all of the unanswered questions in my life. The unthought thoughts, the unfelt feelings, they are me. Me in incomplete sentences without correct spelling without punctuation full of fragments and runons without capitalization and millions af dangeling modifiers. But that's the beauty of a thought. The capital letters can go uncapitalized and the punctuation can go unpunctuated. Life on paper. Raw. Uncut. Flowinf full of emotion. Happiness and pain. Joyfulness and anger. The beauty of thought. I now have an answer to the question What is the meaning of life? The meaning of life is to understand the beauty of a thought. True beauty cannot be captured in magazines, art (painting, photography, sculpture), nature. True beauty is found only in though, human or animal. Thought is beautiful.
If thought could be seen I believe it would curl and rise, like smoke and vanish without a moments notice. In thought all things are perfect, all are happy. People respect each other. Thought is a perfect world. Thought is a perfect world. Is thought a place? If so, I see it as Ireland. Green rolling hills and dense fog. So dense you get lost. so lost you cannot tell left from right. Lost. In thought.
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It rained last night. I love the rain. It was so soothing and perfect. We need more rain. Everyone needs their rain. Something to soothe and calm them. Everyone needs rain. . .
